After I managed to talk myself off the ledge with the promise of cookies and the reassuring notion that at most three or four people would pay to see a movie about an Eisenhower-eraobscenity trial surrounding a poem that today could be used to sell artfully distressed lofts to red state fauxhemians, I had to concede that of today's young actors Franco is the only one with the perverse, what-the-[heck] sensibility to pull it off.